


Monochrome Love

by Unmensch



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Necrophilia, Rape, Torture, dubcon, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unmensch/pseuds/Unmensch
Summary: Snippets of stuff I wrote about Mark Jefferson and Rachel Amber. Mostly smut. Update: Added a thing with Max on ch 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok first thing's first I own no copyrights to Life Is Strange nor am I making a profit off this. it's purely self-indulgent. Second thing is I don't condone any of the bad stuff that takes place in this work of fiction and I'm telling you straight up right now if you hate the pairing, the character(s), or can't distinguish between fiction and real life please don't read this. I don't know why anyone would waste their time tormenting themselves with fanworks or to knowingly disregard triggers.
> 
> Triggers include: Conditioning, abuse, dubcon/noncon elements, explicit sex, sexism, control, implied consent and dubious consent, torture, water sports, asphyxiation, squicky pet names, a touch of incest!play ( because of the pet names ), necrophilia, and all around very gross. Characters are 18+.
> 
> The fic is cut into snippets, not a linear timeline of events just fic snips that I felt like making here and there. Some shift to Jefferson-first person, some Rachel first-person, and some third person. I hope I'm able to distinguish the perspective for you guys otherwise it'd just be disorienting and confusing. I'm open to feedback! If there's something I fudged up on let me know so I can fix it. It's smut my guys. Mostly smut.

You want to be a star. You want to be the best. Much like any creature in this day and age, you move up to bigger, better things. To become stagnant is akin to death, as far as a career goes. These students... I can see flickers of ambition, but that's all it is. Brief sparks, and then nothing. It's disappointing, to say the least. These up-and-coming teens are supposed to usher in a new age of photography, grab the art world by the horns and never let go.

They're just flickers. Insignificant; an abundance of nothing that will never kindle to fruition. What a waste.

With all good intentions, their parents shell out to get them a top quality teacher, someone who can turn these nobodies into superstars. Masters of their craft. I fear mediocrity is the end goal for these spoiled brats, never challenging themselves to delve deep into their creativity, needing me to hold their hand and walk them through every little task. It's tiresome, and if I may, it's a bit insulting as well. I've already made my mark in the art world. My name's out there, it's a brand, and it's what brings most students to this school. They could show me a little respect, maybe some gratitude. Maybe that's asking too much for society today.

\------------------------------------------

I watch beads of sweat accumulate at Rachel's forehead, her eyes dull and tired. She's curled up against a corner, bare ankles bound with duct tape. I wonder how uncomfortable she must feel all bunched up. She's been so good. I need to make sure she hears that.

" Perfect. Just like that. Let your head hang just slightly... Yes, just like that. "

She lulls her head off to the side. I catch a few quick shots of her, enough to capture her eyes rolling back, just before her lips part, allowing a hazy moan to escape her throat. I capture the brief death that I catch a glimpse of, the shutter of the lens or the blink of an eye. 

I love her mouth, opening like a black hole, as the leather I've bound her in squeezes tight against her skin, keeping her body in painful suspension. The drug I've injected her with keeps her compliant to my wishes. All her bruises and aches. She should wear her scars with pride. She couldn't be in more capable hands.  
\------------------------------------------  
Moving behind her while she remains seated, my gloved hands gently glide up to her shoulders. I lean in close, letting her feel my lips graze her ear.

" You're being such a good girl for me. I'm so proud of you. "

She shivers visibly, as I observe her knees desperately trying to squeeze together and meet. She wants to hide her vulnerability from me. Tonight, my muse, my subject, my prey. I feel predatory. I feel in control. Complete control. She belongs to me. There is no part of her that is independent and free of my influence. She is lost without me. She whines painfully, knees shaking, make up smeared as she cries and cries. It's getting me hard. I press my lips to her ear and hitch my voice up to express my desire.

" You're so beautiful when you cry, Rachel. There is nothing more exquisite than seeing you suffer. It's euphoric. Unlike any drug. "

A fly tangled in my web.  
She squeals, rolling her head back, letting out an obscene sound. I wrinkle my nose and investigate.

Oh.  
Rachel seems to have lost control of her bladder and was far too dosed to tell me she needed to go. It's been more than several hours since I started this session. Time must have slipped by me. How inconsiderate of me. I'll get Nathan to clean it up.

I give her a deep kiss, violating her mouth with my tongue. She weakly reciprocates, mewling in my mouth. " I'm scared. I'm scared. Please let me go. " She mumbles, snot nosed and caked in sweat.

" Not just yet, my love. I need to see how the pictures turned out first. Be a good girl and stay here, would you? " Not that she had a choice.  
\------------------------------------------

I'm helpless. I feel like a piece of meat. I lay motionless, against my will, weighed down by the effects of the drug, as if I'm buried alive and my lungs are being choked. I drift in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I feel his gloved hands squeezing my neck just so he can see his hand prints on my neck as he snaps the picture. He nudges me onto my side with his foot. _Flash. Flash._ Flashes of light that burn my retinas, shrinking my pupils in their rapid succession.

Sprawled. I open my mouth to say something, anything, any sort of noise to indicate I'm alive. I'm here, trapped in a comatose body under the effects of the drug. He presses his foot to my chest and observes my weak, pathetic state.

" Look at how helpless you are. At my disposal. Show me, Rachel. Show me how you're feeling. I want to see with brutal honesty. Don't hold back. I want to see the anguish. I want to see the trauma. The sorrow. The life flowing out of you. "

 _Flash. Flash, Flash._ It feels like I've been here for years, buried alive.  
" You're all mine, Rachel. No one else can appreciate you the way I do."  
_Flash. Flash. Flash._ Is this really happening? Am I hallucinating this?  
" You're my muse. My inspiration. I can't let you go. "  
_Flash. Flash. Flash._  
" How does it feel to be desired? You should feel so privileged. Who knows what lowlife you'd be fucking if it wasn't for me. "

I reel and squirm. I can't handle the things he's saying to me. I want to hide, I want to get away, and in spite of myself and everything I believe in at the very crux of my sanity, I want him to touch my body and deceive me. I want him to corrupt me and mark me as his territory. I want to surrender. God, so badly do I want to surrender...

" Look at you... Enough to break Daddy's heart. If only he knew what I was doing to his little girl. Imagine how red faced and angry he would be. " He laughs. It makes my stomach turn in tandem with the throbbing need between my legs.

" Tell me, Rachel; Do you wanna be my precious little girl? "

Choking, sobbing, my naked body squirms with desire. " Please. Please. I'll be a good girl for you. Anything. Anything. Please don't leave me alone. I need you. "

It's all I can think, my mind is swimming in hallucinatory suggestions and this dependant need to latch onto him, as if he were my only connection to the outside world. Jefferson towering over me appears sinister, the light reflecting off the lense of his ridiculously priced camera, as well as his glasses. You wouldn't believe how touchy he is about them. He moves away to set the camera down and it sends me into a momentary panic. He leaves. I don't know where he's gone, and the seconds it takes for him to move away feels like hours and I'm left feeling alone and afraid.

When he returns, I watch him push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.  
He stares. Nothing else. I can hear him breathing quietly. Our breath in unison. My heart a jackhammer in my chest, akin to the throbbing in my sex. I feel myself spilling warmth and soiling my panties with just his gaze alone. How could I give myself so completely to one person? Never in my wildest fantasies would I imagine this would be where I ended up.

Love. Mark Jefferson's version of love was so black and white. Pain and pleasure. He found great joy in blurring the concepts and experimenting his cruelties on me. What's worse is that I find myself enjoying the torture, craving the attention. Even when I'm screaming for him to stop, to let me go, to not drug me, there's an intrusive Rachel inside of me that cannot live without his evil manipulations. Without him I feel so... Empty. And that terrifies me.

My eyes roll back into my skull when I feel his slimy pink tongue slither around my sex, lapping at my clitoris and licking up my cum. I can't see him flat on my back, but I can hear him moaning, savoring the taste of my body. It brings me pleasure to hear him getting off. It's the only real control I have... That my body can elicit these reactions from him.

Listening to him long enough, his statements describe a man who cannot live without me. There's power in knowing this, but at the heart of the matter, I'm putty in his hands and I would not have it any other way.

Mark doesn't need to ease his cock into me, as my sex is fully engorged. I can finally see him and it floods my chest with a warm sensation, heart fluttering in my throat. The drugs were finally wearing down and allowing me the luxury of enjoying this moment. I've been waiting for this moment for so long. This night has lasted forever -- but then, it's impossible to tell how much time has passed in our Dark Room.

I cry out in protest when he moves me onto my hands and knees. I want to see him, smell him, grab him, anything but this... It's so impersonal. I don't want to be fucked like an animal, arching my ass into the air to meet his thrusts, I want to wrap my limbs around his clothed torso and take him in completely. It isn't fair!

" _Wait, no, Mark--! Please, not like this, I w-want to s-see you...!_ "

He coo's at me in a patronizing manner. 

" You want to see me? Well, isn't that just darling. How about you ask me nicely? "

I manage to turn myself back to my original position, using all the energy I have to push my palms to the floor. " Please. I'll be your good little girl. I promise. Anything you want. **Anything.** I'm begging you. Please... "

" Please _what?_ "

" Please make love to me this way. This way. "

He takes my shoulders and shoves me under him as he climbs on top of me. I can feel his erection resting on my soft belly.

" You want me to fuck you like this? Is that what you want me to do?  
Tell me how _badly_ you want me to fuck you. C'mon, sweetheart. _Convince me._ "

Gloved hands move towards my bare chest. There are still indentations in my skin from when he bound he up hours prior to this moment, contorting my body for the sake of his artistic vision.

" Please, please fill me! I'm begging you! I can't live without you inside of me! Please, please Mr. Jefferson, I'll do anything! "

He pinches my nipples and rolls them between his fingers, which only serves to push my arousal over the edge. It causes my voice to crack, to which he garners much amusement. He scoffs. Amused. His tone laced with lust and superiority. The fear excites me.

I feel his thick cock push through the soft, pink layers of my sex, plunging deep into me. My wet throbbing entrance accompanies his head and shaft, throbbing and pulsating, filling every inch of my vulnerable womanhood with his massive cock. His thrusts are rhythmic, calculated, nailing the heart of my core repeatedly. Through tear stained eyes I see him above me, becoming even more aroused at the sight of his handsome face, showing me how my body was making him feel. I feel latex gloved hands squeezing my neck, using it as leverage for his powerful thrusts. I've lost track of how many times I've come, wave after wave of wet hot sticky fluid flowing between my legs.

He's repeating some words to himself, some sort of mantra, hitting me deeper and deeper inside, until he's emptied himself fully into my body. Thick globules of cum overflowing within, coinciding with his hands releasing my neck, allowing precious oxygen back into my system. He let out a sound that drove me wild, hearing him moan my name in as if he's brought to some religious ecstasy through fucking me. I've never been so full of his love. I never want him to stop. I wanted him to fuck me until there was nothing left. I felt like I was about to burst with how full he made me, savoring the feeling I let out an audible moan as I catch my breath.

" I love you..." I moan shakily, my skin overstimulated and tingling all over. His pelvic bone grinding against my clitoris that keeps me under his control. The bastard. As he continues to torture me with his fluid thrusts, he smiles and runs a gloved hand through my sweaty blonde hair. I hate when he separates himself from me, feeling a river of blood and cum pooling. He always was a little too rough with me... But I would have it no other way.

" I love you too. "

\------------------------------------------  
Rachel was excited to have arranged to meet Mr. Jefferson after class. She'd been planning to meet with him for some time. Was it fame that garnered her interest? Perhaps her interest was superficial? Or was she merely playing the game of getting ahead in her career by rubbing elbows with someone far more experience than she? Maybe all of the above.

A quality that Mark admired about Rachel was her tenacity. She never took no for an answer. Instead, she found other way to get what she wanted. It's a quality that he looked for in his students, that spirited drive to push upwards, onwards, earning their worth. Mark didn't have time to spare for students who weren't going to go above and beyond to achieve success. After all, that's what landed him his fame.

Once class cleared out, leaving Rachel and Mark as the only two people in the room, Mark studied her composure and demeanor through his glasses, down the length of his nose. She could tell he was eyeing her with a scrutinizing gaze and wasn't afraid to call it out.

" Sizing me up? " She questions with a smirk.

Mark pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and scoffs.

" I'm what you would call an opportunist. You'll find that as you become more experienced with photography you'll end up adopting similar habits. Now... "

Moving around to the other side of his desk to meet Rachel more casually, he continues,

"... You said there was something important you wanted to discuss with me privately after class. "

He opens his arms, gesturing, " I'm all yours. What's on your mind? "

Charming, she thinks. Her eyes wander, taking him in. His clothing, the weight he shifts from one foot to another. He conveys a sort of strength and control of the air they occupy. There's something oddly comforting about being in the same space as Mr. Jefferson, even with that underlying imposing feeling. It was hard to not feel just a little bit starstruck when you've got him all to yourself, or so she thinks.

" I'm going to cut to the chase, and take up as little of your time as possible. I want to be the best in your class. I want to excel beyond any of the other students. I don't want to settle for adequate. I want to out-perform all my peers and... "

She shrugs her shoulders, feeling her cheeks burn slightly. She hates how wordy she's being, it's embarrassing, unnecessary. It's not as if she could just come out and tell him she's wanting to get closer to him based on his fame and looks.

" I want you to be proud of me. "

The corner of his mouth curves upwards in a smirk, crossing his arms to chest.

" My dear, you've made excellent strides already. Your grades are impeccable. I couldn't find a single thing to complain about even if I wanted to. You made the right choice coming to me. I want to make sure I can get you to where you need to be. "

He notices how large her eyes have gotten. Her confidence was masquerading her fear, that sweet, innocent, inferior sort of demeanor she desperately tried to keep from view. So many facets. It intrigued him. He wanted to chip away and learn more about her. This wasn't the first time a student of his pulled him aside asking the exact same request. The difference between Rachel and the others, in Mark's opinion, was that he was needing a new subject for his own personal projects. It's been a while.

" You know what? How about we continue this conversation elsewhere? "

Drawing forward, like a moth to the flame,

" Somewhere private? " She raises an eyebrow, smiling knowingly at him.

Setting his hands at his hips, he tilts his head back, returning the grin.

" Just you and me. "

And just like that, they play their games, meeting outside of school grounds to discuss Rachel's future of photography. They thought they were being coy, sneaking around, keeping their public conversations solely on work. They weren't fooling anybody. Rumors spread quickly, but Mark wasn't about to pay them any mind. He advised Rachel to ignore them as well. Fueling the fire would only serve to blow the lid off of their clandestine relationship.  
\------------------------------------------  
"Mark! Oh God! Mark!"

Her arms flail about his shoulders, trying to get a grip of him, nails raking down his suit as he pounds his hips mercilessly into her, beckoning him into her with spread legs. Burying his face into the nape of her neck, rocking the vehicle in the lone parking garage as he continued to beat her into the backseat cushions with his thrusts. She lets out a shriek, throwing her head back as she arrives at her climax.

" What a good girl you are, Rachel. So good. I couldn't have asked for a better student. "

She closes her legs and cups her sex, feeling her womanhood throb painfully, feeling his hot cum seeping through her fingers as it flows through her, sticking to her thighs and palms, slimy until it crusts and stains their clothing.  
\------------------------------------------  
Rachel's dead. That numbskull Prescott did this. Of all the mindless, idiotic things he could have done. I should have known better than to trust him with my muse.  
Her body is still warm. I voice my observation aloud, bringing Nathan's gaze to mine.

" You know, Nathan... It would be such a waste to bury her like this. So soon. "

I caress her hair, guiding my hands down to her mouth, forcing her lips open.

" How about we pay our respects. "

His eyes move to my waist, where I've already begun unlatching my belt buckle. Even beyond the grave, Rachel Amber gave great head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a really sweet msg from someone called "plzwritemore" and they said to please write so hey why not! I had some time on my hands miraculously so here's some more horrible stuff. This time with Max and Jefferson. It's pretty short and just smut. Fic warnings still apply.

Cupping her face in his gloved hands, groggily her eyes turn up to find his sights set on her. There's a monstrous hunger that stares back out at her. Some invisible thin veil keeping the rabid craving from consuming her where she sat helplessly. He traces his thumb over her lips, admiring the pink gloss on her lips. He then runs his thumbs over her cheeks, all rosy and round. Perfect. Without realizing, his breathing has picked up. Quick, shallow breaths through his nose.

"You look so beautiful, Max. Like something out of a dream."

Slowly, his hands begin to creep down to her neck, giving her a gracious squeeze. The blood circulation halts where his hands crush her, fingers coiled around to the back of her head like a snake constricting it's prey. Max's mouth goes slack and her eyes bug out. _Terrified._

Mark pushes forward as she begins to lose the strength to sit up. He's on top of her now, choking her with his two hands at her throat. He feels his arousal growing with each second that passes, stimulated, watching her gasp like a fish out of water. No, she's serene, even in the face of death, like a small, petrified animal. He gets a glimpse of that innocence and feels that wave of euphoria wash over his body. Elated.

_"God, you suffer so beautifully, Max..."_

Her face was turning all sorts of different shades. Her eyes pooled with tears. Mark eventually released her throat from his grip and quickly brought himself to his feet, retrieving his camera off the floor. He'd placed it carefully there while he examined her face moments ago.

_"Just like that. Just like that."_

She felt violated.

_Click. Flash. Click. Flash. Click. Click. Click._

Death was seeming to be less horrible each moment she spent with him.

_Click. Flash. Click. Flash. Click. Click. Click._

Mark notices her trying to sit up. The drugs must be wearing off, _but he's so close, so close, too close_ for her to ruin it by moving out of his shot. Without flinching, he lifts his foot and stomps her back down onto her back. She cries out in pain and _Click, flash, click, click, rapid fire..._

"Sorry, Max. You made me do it."

There she starts again. _Squirming..._

"You're being a bad girl, Max! Stop moving!"

Swiftly, he kicks her ribs, quickly moving away to sneak a shot in from the side, a flash of light to illuminate her features, lighting up all the tears and blemishes and colors in her face that will be drained, leaving only the truest qualities of the photograph. All the nonsense filtered out, and only the purest emotions will pour from his pictures of Max.

She demands he stop hurting her, twisting her body, trying to face away from him.

Mark snarls, and as he stands above Max, he moves forward just enough to stomp down on her shoulder, forcing her onto her back. He then stamps his foot onto her throat. Her fingertips red from digging into Mark's shoulders earlier, when he was strapping her into the chair, her hands had gotten loose just as he jabbed her with a syringe. Her nails bent back, leaving a bit of her blood on his white shirt. That was earlier. Now, they were chipping and peeling against the floor as she dug in, unable to find the strength to stop him.

Zooming in, he gets a couple great shots of her eyes rolling back, looking up to the ceiling with fleeting hope, and direct eye-to-lens, with a frightened, pleading, panicked look.

Moving his camera away, he looks over to his watch, checking the time. Good. It wasn't too late yet. Not that time was too much of a problem in the Dark Room. Here, Mark was able to live out his fantasies. Who cared for time?

He realized almost too late that he was still putting his weight on her throat. Drawing his foot back, he retreats back, leaving her to cough and sputter there on her back.

Once the throbbing calms in her head and she's able to register what's going on around her, she hears him grunting her name in a profane manner, and that sickening sound of him pleasuring himself.

"Please... Please, stop..."

Soon enough, she closed her eyes and braced herself, feeling his hot seed splash onto her face and chest. He's panting and muttering to himself, her name mixing into his rambling.

Immediately she tenses up, as much as her muscles would allow her to, feeling him invade her space once more. Grabbing her face with his hand, he squeezes her face painfully, forcing her to sit up by pulling at her. His other hand started teasing her.

"C'mon, Max. It's okay. It's _our_ Dark Room. We don't have to tell anyone."

She has enough energy to shake her head in his grip, which influences him to grasp her harder, causing her to yelp in pain. Her stomach turns as she feels his hot breath against her neck, his lips moving at her ear as he whispers in close proximity,

"You are everything that I have desired. Better than that dead slut Rachel. Your innocence is everything I've been searching for."

His obsessive statements began to tread obscene, perverted territories as his gloved hand slipped into her panties, slithering fingers over and around her clitoris, avoiding penetration. Not yet. Not yet. He had to contain himself, but was finding difficulty doing so. Releasing her face, he wraps the arm around her shoulders and pulls her into something like a hug against his chest.

"Y-You're disgusting..." She manages to choke out between tears.

"I know." He responds with a patronizing comfort in his voice.

She gasps as he slips two fingers into her, crying out for him to stop as he gently shushes her.

_"Does that hurt? Show me, Max. Show me how much I'm hurting you."_

_"Show me"_

_"Show me how much I'm hurting you."_

_"Yes, yes, just like that."_

_"Am I turning you on?"_

_"Do you want me to fuck you, Max?"_

She shudders as a warmth flowed from between her legs, the situation became far too overwhelming for Max, causing her to pass out. Mark examines the slick wetness on his fingers, along with a streak of blood. He really should be more gentle with her...


End file.
